


I Sold My Soul to a Three-Piece

by midnight5776



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, BDSM, CEO!Tom, Consent, F/M, Kink, Sex, don't come here if you only want smut im sorry, escort!hermione, hermione is an escort, hes rich as fuck, there isn't a lot, tom is a ceo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight5776/pseuds/midnight5776
Summary: Hermione was good at what she did. Fantastic, in fact. She made upward of two grand a night. Men came crawling back to her, offering vast amounts of money, penthouse suites, and other perks but once they became too attached, she always cut them off without a blink of an eye.She gave men what they wanted and that was far more than the sex they had; she gave them power. She let them feel in control—they controlled how much she moved, what she wore, how much air she could breathe. They got off on it.So did she.





	I Sold My Soul to a Three-Piece

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoy this ship, so I'm working on writing more around it. There isn't much actual sex in here, but it's the most I've written and posted online. If you like the fic, please leave some comments! Thanks for reading!

Hermione was good at what she did. Fantastic, in fact. She made upward of two grand a night. Men came crawling back to her, offering vast amounts of money, penthouse suites, and other perks but once they became too attached, she always cut them off without a blink of an eye.

She gave men what they wanted and that was far more than the sex they had; she gave them power. She let them feel in control—they controlled how much she moved, what she wore, how much air she could breathe. They got off on it.

So did she.

\--

Her newest client sat across from her at a dimly lit table of an expensive restaurant in downtown Seattle. She was used to such environments, to wealth and status and secrecy. She craved it.

The man across from her must’ve been a new breed. She was used to handsome men, but she felt drawn to him. It was his eyes. They were so dark Hermione almost couldn’t read him and, well, men were her specialty.

“I wasn’t aware we would be performing such…niceties before we got to the point.”

Hermione leaned forward. “The first night is always free.” She pulled a black, matte folder from her sizable purse. She took out a stapled packet and slid it across the fine table cloth. “There will be no sex tonight. I expect you to read over this packet by the next time we meet. It has my hard and soft limits. This is not a negotiation. Anything not on that list is allowed—and yes, I mean anything.”

Tom quirked an eyebrow. “Well, someone was prepared.”

“I take pride in my job, Mr. Riddle. There are forms in the packet that I would like you to fill out. They’ll let me know what to call you, what you like, allergies, so on—“

“Allergies?”

“—latex is a fairly common allergy. I like my sex without the hives.” Hermione was nonplused and glanced over the drink menu. “When the waiter comes over, I’d like a white Russian.”

“And so we begin,” Tom murmured as he picked up the packet.

\--

Hermione didn’t crave money or material objects. She raised her prices because it made her clients more likely to fit her needs. Hermione wanted few things and she was going to make damn sure Tom gave them to her.

\--

“Fifteen…” Tom’s firm hand landed heavily onto her bare ass. “Sixteen…” She felt the burn of hard flesh on flesh contact. “Seventeen…” Tom’s calloused hand caressed Hermione’s ass before drawing back and coming back down. “Eighteen…” With each hit, she counted higher. Her ass was red and tender and she was very aware that Tom was intent on bruising her. Men were always trying to assert their dominance on the first session.

“Twenty-five,” she counted and Tom stopped. He rubbed the reddened skin.

“And how was that, my pretty?” Tom asked, voice obviously falsely light. He was scheming.

“Is that all you have to offer, my Lord?” she asked playfully. “I was expecting so much more.”

Suddenly, her head was yanked back by her wild curls. Tom had a full handful of her hair and yanked it back until her head couldn’t go back any farther.

“Oh, this was just a warm up,” he murmured into her ear.

\--

It was very early in the morning when Hermione got out of the hotel bed she had just defiled with Tom. He had already left; the men always left first. She stared at herself in the clear bathroom mirror. Her red lipstick was smeared messily across her plump mouth and onto her dark skin. Her hair was in disarray from all the yanking and sweat from their earlier activities.

White teeth flashed past her messy lips. She always glowed post-sex. This one seemed more promising than some of her other clients. Lots of them were high end business men with bossy wives and bosses always commanding them. They came to her to finally be in charge and she let them. They really were only paying for her silence because she craved to do what she did best.

Tom was different though. From the information he put in the packet she had given him, she could tell he was in control of his entire life already. At the young age of 35 he was already the CEO of a top technology company. He was unmarried, lived alone, and had no one to answer to. Tom Riddle just wanted power. He wanted all the power he could get.

She loved giving her power away.

\--

If he was being honest, Tom hadn’t expected good conversation from an escort. He hadn’t expected a brilliant mind with a specialty in wit and sass. She actually had quite the mouth on her. He planned to fix that.

“How was work this week?” Hermione asked before taking a sip of the expensive red wine Ton had ordered for her.

“Frustrating, quite frankly,” he stated. “You don’t get paid to hear about failed business deals and useless employees.”

Hermione set down her wine glass carefully. She folded her hands under her chin and leaned in, a knowing glint bright in her eyes. “Tom, I’m paid to do whatever you want.” Her tone held a challenge in it.

“Kitten, I’m not so sure you could keep up.” He didn’t look away as he took a bite of his very rare steak.

“I think my degrees in business and prelaw say otherwise,” she stated lightly.

Something flashed through Tom’s expression. He wanted to know every little surprise about the unique woman sitting across from him, dressed like his own personal goddess.

“So, my VP, Abraxas,” he started. He liked a woman who could keep up.

\--

She usually cut them off once they started asking for dinner dates before every session and started lingering in bed afterwards.

She ate dinner with Tom every Wednesday night for a month straight.

\--

“Harder, please!” Hermione begged. Her hands were tied tightly to the headboard and she was laying on her stomach. Her ankles were hooked up to a spreader bar and her eyes were covered with Tom’s deep green tie.

The flogger cracked against her dark skin, welts covering her body. He’d never worked with someone who could match his pace. Each session she wanted more and more. She encouraged him to do what he actually desired.

She was like a drug; he couldn’t get enough.

“Of course. Kitten. Let’s see what you can take.”

\--

“I have a business function this Saturday. It’s a benefactor dinner. It’ll be dreadfully boring. You’re going with me.” His voice was even as always.

“I don’t do dates, Tom.” She set down her silverware and watched him. “It’s in my contract.”

“There what is this, sweetheart?” He motioned to their expensive dinner. “You’ll be paid like any other session. It’s not a date. This is an order. Think of it as part of a session.” He paused.

She knew she shouldn’t go. It was past the limits she liked setting for herself, as was her salmon dinner. As was the way his fingers lingered on her skin when they laid on used hotel sheets together. As was the shower she had taken with him last Sunday. As was the way her pulse quickened when he texted her.

“I’ll go on this ‘not date’,” she conceded.

“Good. My assistant will be bringing by a dress for you by Friday.” He didn’t ask for an address and she didn’t provide one. She knew he did his research thoroughly.

\--

Her heart raced the same way it did in bed as Tom showed her off at the dinner. He kept her on his arm the entire night, never allowing her to go more than a yard away. He got her drinks, pulled out her chair, twirled her gracefully on the ballroom floor, and made out with her roughly in the bathroom. Overall, it was a splendid night.

She was dressed like a queen—his queen. Her dress something worthy of royalty, long and a deep red. She wore her curls like a crown on top of her head and carried herself with pride.

Tom wanted to own her completely.

\--

“How many other clients do you see regularly?” Tom asked nonchalantly as they laid side by side.

“Three, but I have a few irregulars that contact me occasionally,” she murmured, eyelids heavy. He had a habit of waring her out.

“Okay,” was all he said before he started playing with her curls.

\--

“Say it,” he growled, his hands like talons digging into her sides. He pounded into her, harder, harder, _harder_. “Say you’re all mine!” Sweat rolled down his forehead and landed on her hot skin as they moved. The bed beneath them groaned from their quick movements.

“I’m yours, my Lord!” she cried out, her grip tight on the sheets of the bed. “I’m all yours.” She let out a sob of relief as a blinding orgasm rolled through her body.

\--

“I want you for an entire weekend,” he stated over yet another dinner. Per usual, he was in an expensive, dark suit worth more than her rent. He was possibly the most handsome man she had ever met.

“I don’t do overnight stays,” she reminded him without even looking up from her meal. This time he had ordered her the lamb and it was fantastic.

“Friday night I would pick you up after my work and bring you home Sunday night. You’d stay with me. I can provide a guest room if you desire.”

Hermione knew Tom always got his way and she liked letting him. He was slowly breaking all the emotional boundaries she had set up to protect herself. This was getting risky.

She knew she shouldn’t say ‘yes’.

She really wanted to see his home. She wanted to see how he lived. She wanted to see him sleeping and hear what his voice sounded like in the morning.

She wanted to know everything about him.

“I can’t do this weekend, but my next is free.”

She pretended to not notice how his knuckles whitened at her mention of having other clients.

\--

She wanted Tom to own her.

\--

His home was…amazing. The floors were dark, the windows provided beautiful views, and walls were deep burgundy. He lived in a penthouse by himself in the center of downtown. In his study were his two exotic pet snakes that resided in a large tank. There was expensive art placed throughout his entire home.

“Here’s the guest room, Kitten.” He motioned to a door that led into a beautifully decorated room.

“I won’t be needing that,” she murmured. Tom turned and his dark eyes held her gaze.

“Perfect.”

\--

She slept in his bed. She slept next to a naked Tom Riddle, his face truly peaceful in sleep. He looked almost innocent, which he was anything but.

Hermione curled up against his side and, in his sleep, his arm wrapped around her.

\--

Hermione tried to make breakfast. The attempt resulting in his kitchen looking like a war zone covered in flour. From behind her, Hermione heard a low chuckle roll out of Tom’s mouth. She turned and faced him, blushing through the powder on her cheeks. She hadn’t heard him laugh before. He had to lean on the counter because he was laughing so hard.

“I’m guessing your talents end at the kitchen,” he chuckled as he guided her out of the disaster she had created.

“I can cook,” she huffed. “The bag was sealed too tight and it just flew everywhere when I opened it.” She crossed her arms across her chest.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go get you cleaned up.” Tom brought her into the master bathroom. He was gentle with her as he washed her hair, cleaned the flour off her skin, and wrapped her up in a plush towel.

Wasn’t she already his?

\--

“Next Thursday, I have another benefactor dinner. I’ll have Bellatrix deliver a new dress by this time next week,” he informed her as the waiter brought them their soups.

“I actually can’t go, Tom. I already have plans.”

“Well cancel them,” he suggested dismissively. He didn’t even look away from his meal when he gave the order.

“No,” she said with surprising firmness. She set down her spoon. “I already dedicated my time elsewhere. I’m not going to change my plans.”

“Is it another client?” he demanded, his distaste obvious. His knuckles were white as he gripped his spoon far too tight.

“Quite frankly, Tom, that’s none of your business.” She squared her shoulders, preparing for the fight she knew was brewing.

“It is my business,” he growled. “You’re my business.”

“No, Tom, you’re _my_ business. You’re my job. I’m busy next Thursday. Regardless of whether I’m seeing a client, you’re going to your dinner without me,” she snapped.

“Let’s skip dinner and go straight upstairs,” Tom ordered as he stood, throwing money onto the table, more than enough to cover their ordered food.

“No,” Hermione stood as well. Her hands slid down her charcoal dress, flattening the material. “I’m going home. You don’t have to pay me for this evening. Goodbye, Tom.” With that, she turned and left him alone in the middle of the dimly lit restaurant.

\--

Tom called her business cell seven times within the next week. She sent them all immediately to voicemail.

Her plans Thursday night weren’t for work, not that it should’ve mattered. She had a life outside of her visits with him.

She refused to schedule Tom for his weekly appointment. It wasn’t like she needed his money. She had other clients.

Hermione had let this go too far.

\--

Friday, she found a large, expensive bouquet of orchids—her favorite—on her doorstep. They may or may not have ended up in a crystal vase on her kitchen counter.

She let his call ring four times that evening.

\--

Saturday, at seven in the morning, there was a pounding at her front door. Groaning, she dragged herself out of bed and wrapped her robe around herself. After disabling her home alarm, she opened the door to see him. There he was, Tom Riddle, CEO of an international company, standing on her doorstep in worn jeans and a faded shirt.

“Can we talk, please, Hermione?” Tom asked, voice calm even though his eyes said otherwise. Tom didn’t ask for things nicely. He took them.

“Fine.” She caved and stepped back, letting him enter her home. She clutched her robe tightly around her as they sat on opposite ends of her blue couch.

\--

Hermione had never had a client inside her home before. It was her sanctuary—nothing like the hotel rooms she worked in or even like Tom’s penthouse. Hermione’s house in the suburbs was, well, a home.

The rooms were filled with early morning light. Bookshelves lined an entire wall of her living room, jammed full of a wide range of literature. The walls had photos all over them. Some were of an older couple that looked quite a lot like Hermione. Others had photos of school-age Hermione with two boys, one was a ginger and the other had very messy black hair. She had photos from her graduation from high school and her two graduations at universities.

His eyes kept running over all the little details of her house. Her furniture was mostly light colored and the walls were painted in calming shades of blues. It was nothing he would have imagined the Hermione he knew living in. No, the woman who wore black latex and begged to be hit and screamed his name wouldn’t be living in such a warm home. Yet, there he was on a Sunday morning, on her couch.

“Your home is nothing like I imagined,” he admitted. Her eyes narrowed at his first choice of words to speak.

“Did you assume I lived in some sort of sex dungeon just because I enjoy having sex? My job isn’t my entire life, Tom.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

It wasn’t going well.

\--

“Let me try again,” Tom said. “I’m…in shock. I’m sorry.”

“Tom, you only see me as the woman you have sex with. That’s fine. It’s what I’m paid to be for you, but that by no means gives you a right to be an ass to me.” Her walls flew up. He was the reason she had set those limits. This was never supposed to happen.

“I don’t like that you sleep with other men,” he stated abruptly. “I don’t like the idea that other men get to see you like I do. I don’t do well with sharing, Hermione.”

“You knew when you signed that contract that I wasn’t only seeing you,” she reminded him.

“Fuck the contract,” Tom growled. “Forget that stupid contract. Burn it, if you must. What do I need to do to get you to give up your other clients?” His hands were balled up into fists resting on his lap. Besides the one tell, nothing else in his body showed his irritation. He sat perfectly straight, his breathing forcibly steady.

“This is my work, Tom. You really have no clue who I actually am, especially if you’re shocked by my home—“

“Then I can get to know you.” For a moment, Tom sounded desperate. “I’ll take you out on normal dates and I’ll meet your friends or whomever is of importance to you. I’ll do whatever you want, damnit, just stop seeing those other men.” Anger mixed into his tone to make a deadly combination. He both looked ready to leave and ready to commit murder at the same time.

“And how do you expect me to make a living?” she demanded, her thick brows furrowed.

“I have more than enough money to support you. Money isn’t the issue here.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to quit my job and just exist for your sake. That sounds like an awful life.” Hermione had to be doing things. She liked keeping herself busy.

That’s when Tom realized he had been going about the situation all wrong.

He relaxed and sat back. “Hermione, why did you start being an escort?” he asked calmly. Hermione was taken back by his complete flip in emotions, but she followed his lead.

“Law school is expensive. I planned to only do this for a bit to save up money, but I’m really good at it,” she admitted. “It was never my original plan, but I also don’t regret taking up this career path. I like sex, Tom. I like giving up my control and what’s better than getting paid doing something you do for fun?”

“Escorting has a limited amount of time for a person to be in their prime,” he pointed out, being very careful with his tone. He could already see a fire lit in her chocolate eyes. “What I meant was, what’s your plan for when escorting doesn’t make you enough anymore? This doesn’t come with a retirement plan and it isn’t like any of your wages are going into your social security fund.”

The anger hadn’t left Hermione’s eyes, but that was because he found the only flaw in her plan. “I’ve been saving up this entire time. If I keep going at this pace, I’ll have enough to live comfortably for quite a while.”

“And if something happens? Saved up money only does so much, especially if you don’t have a plan to have a constant income.”

“That isn’t any of your business,” she snapped.

“I have an offer for you.”

\--

Tom had offered to pay for law school for her if she gave up her current job. He stated that he would set up a yearly deposit to her school of choice, if she got accepted. It would be bound by a legal contract with his lawyers. It wouldn’t be cut off if they stopped seeing each other. It was a _gift_ from him for doing what he wanted.

 

 

\--

‘ _Dinner @ 7, the usual place_ ’ she texted him Wednesday morning.

‘ _It’d be my pleasure_ ’ he answered almost instantly.

\--

“Before we get too far, I have some rules to put into place,” Hermione stated firmly before they had even ordered dinner.

“I expected so.” He nodded. “What are they, Kitten?”

Hermione took a deep breath. She wasn’t too sure what she was getting herself into, but her heart raced at the sight of him and she was really, _really_ good at prelaw.

“You are not paying me to date you. You’re sponsoring my education, but you’re not my client and I’m not your escort. If we do this, we are going to have normal dates. If you’re an ass, I will leave.”

“That sounds reas—“

“I’m not done. Our sex life will stay the same. Just because you don’t pay me doesn’t mean the sex can be sloppy and lazy. I want to know more about you, not just the brief paragraph provided on your company’s website.” Under the table, her hands were folded nervously together. She was scared. She liked having control of her life outside of the bedroom and now her flawed plan was changing. Sure, this was the smarter plan, but she didn’t always deal with change the best.

She also hadn’t dated anyone since she left college.

“That sounds reasonable,” he finished this time. “You’ll need to have some patience with me. I’ve never really done this whole romance thing.” He hated the idea of dating and cute kisses and meeting parents, but he wanted her. He wanted to own her, to have her be only his. If that meant he should meet her needs as well, he was going to.

Her shoulders relaxed at his admittance. She wasn’t the only one in foreign territory.

\--

That weekend, Hermione invited him over to her house one afternoon.

“Let’s get started,” he said when she opened her door. It was strange for him to see Tom in anything besides a suit or no clothes at all. Here he was in jeans and a black sweater. His clothes still looked expensive, but he looked more…approachable? If that was possible. She would never use ‘approachable’ to describe Tom Riddle.

“My study is this way.” She guided him down the hallway he had never entered. He had never made it past her living room before.

Her study was a small, cozy room meant to be a bedroom. She had a desk against the farthest wall looking out a window facing her backyard. The walls were a nice beige color and were yet again covered. One had a flag from what he assumed was the boarding school she attended since he recognized the name Hogwarts. Another wall had even more bookshelves, which shocked him because honestly, how many books did this woman have? She had certificates framed on her walls: diplomas, recognitions of community efforts, awards for outstanding accomplishments.

“You really are quite the genius, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“I graduated Summa Cum Laude,” she told him proudly while she seated herself at her desk. She patted the spare chair next to him she had brought over for him before he arrived. He lingered for a moment, looking at all her hard work.

“You’re a good choice,” he stated matter-of-factly before sitting.

“How so?” she asked curiously, a smirk on her lips.

“If I were to ever have a partner, I had always planned for her to be an equal.” Hermione blushed.

\--

They spent the entire afternoon revising her applications for law schools. By dinner time, she had three submitted.

“I have something for you,” Hermione said before getting up and leaving the room. Tom waited patiently, leaning back comfortably in his chair. He had never imagined this much would come from him looking for someone to fuck. This was much better than he ever imagined.

She came back with her business cellphone in hand. The screen was black. Hermione set it in his hand. “Here’s my side of the deal. The contacts are all deleted off it; I don’t need you going and hunting down those men, but it’s yours now. They only had that number. I ended all of my contracts with them.”

From her shorts pocket, she pulled out a small piece of paper folded up. “Here’s the number for my personal phone.” She smiled at him, enjoying the look he got in his eyes when he got his way.

“Say it,” he ordered in a low tone.

“I’m yours, Tom,” Hermione murmured. His smile grew to match hers. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Only if we order take out,” he responded and she laughed.

\--

Tom tried to offer her a job at his company; she adamantly refused. “I want to earn my position,” she reminded him. Hermione was laying on her blue couch while Tom was in her cream armchair.

“You can. I’d start you at an entry level position you are qualified for and—“

“Nope,” she cut him off. “I refuse to work for the man I call ‘my Lord’ in bed. I just can’t do it.”

“You’ve worked for me before,” he reminded her. All she did was huff.

\--

It took a while due to the time gap in her resume, but Hermione soon secured a job. She had an entry position in a law firm that took cases mostly on animal rights and the environment. It kept her busy during her vast amount of free time; school wouldn’t be starting until the fall and it was only May. She had money saved, but she didn’t want to rely on that through all of law school. Tom was paying for her tuition, but she refused to let him pay for her living expenses.

She spent her evenings doing research for the firm or with Tom. They spent a lot of their nights together at the penthouse or her home. Tom would read over reports while Hermione did her various tasks. It was a nice, domestic calm.

Well, until one of them wanted sex. Then it went back to hair pulling, open-mouthed kisses, and lots of hitting. It was perfect.

\--

In the fall, Hermione continued her job at the firm and started law school. It took a bit for her to get back in the swing of school. She had forgotten how much she loved learning and just how good she was. She excelled in her classes and spent late nights studying. Tom usually stayed up with her, reading just off to the side of her desk.

\--

“When will you be willing to marry me?” Tom asked suddenly one night. He kept his attention on his old book (he liked first editions, the pretentious snob).

Hermione choked on a mixture of her own spit and air. After a long coughing fit, she turned her chair to face him. “What the fuck?” she asked, eyes wide.

“When will you be willing to marry me?” he asked again, still not looking up. “I didn’t think I stuttered.”

“Tom,” was all she said for a long moment. Hermione stared at him. “You…you can ask me before I graduate, but I refuse to have the ceremony before I have my degree.” She calmly turned her attention back to her laptop, but watched Tom smile from the corner of her eye.

She loved giving Tom what he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my brother Seb for reading over all my stories before I post them! Also, if you like the fic, come follow me over at a-lover-still on tumblr! That's where I am most the time and focusing on planning more stories!


End file.
